


Covers and Sins

by FireflySummerwynd



Category: Poison (US Band)
Genre: Cover Band, F/M, Glam Metal, hair metal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:22:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23834563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflySummerwynd/pseuds/FireflySummerwynd
Summary: After decades of hard work to get his band off the ground and keep it afloat, veteran bassist Bobby Dall was more than a bit proud when his son decided to make a cover band of it. In fact, he was so gung-ho about it that he did everything he could to help him out–mostly in offering a shoulder to lean on when the going got tough. But the biggest problem young Zach ran into was having trouble finding someone who could cover lead vocals that actually sounded pretty closeta hisuncle,Bret Michaels.Neither of them expected that search to End after being sent a link to a video of a young woman singing a karaoke version of a couple Poison songs. They certainly weren't expecting her to have quit the set of pipes she came with when she took a trip to Florida to audition for the younger Dall.But least of all, Bobby definitely wasn't expecting to wind up falling in Love with his son's lead vocalist–or learning how to sin like he meant it, and love every second of it.
Relationships: Bobby Dall/Stormy McDaniels





	1. Chapter 1

_June, 2016_

_Miami, Florida_

“Morn, son. Any Luck yet?”

Zach Dall looked up from where he’d been scouring the emails various friends’d been sending him lately to answer the question posed to him. Looking up from the screen of his laptop, he saw that he was right in assuming it was his dad who’d addressed him. As if he wouldn’t have recognized his parents’ voicesta Begin with, the deep timbre of the voice’d pretty much told him there was no way it coulda been his mother. Not only that, but she was supposed to be at home with her second husband in Texas, not at his dad’s house in South Florida, where he’d chosen to move back to once he was grown.

“No, not yet, sadly,” he answered, shaking his head. “I’m not so sure this is a good idea, after all.”

Settling next to him on the couch, veteran bassist Bobby Dall made his son look up at him. “Andja think I _didn’t_ think the same thing a few Times when we were first starting Poison?” he chuckled.

The younger man couldn’t help a chuckle of his own. “Fair enough, Dad. But starting a cover band to basically impersonatecha may or may not be such a good idea.”

“Ya won’t know without giving it a real shot,” he told him, an encouraging smile curving his lips. “So, what’s gotcha thinking it’s not gonna be a good idea?”

“Well, I can cover pretty much every riff you’ve ever written,” Zach started. “I mean, you’ve made damn sure of that from the Time I first showed an interest in guitar and bass in the single digits.”

The older man–who’d been showing his age for the last few Years–nodded his agreement as he listened.

“I’ve managed to find a decent drummer and guitarist, so those parts’re covered pretty well,” he continued. “But what the hell am I supposed to do for vocals? I can’t cover those on anything but _Every Rose,_ and you’ve heard the others for yourself.”

“Yeah, a younger Bret Michaels, they’re certainly not,” Bobby agreed with a laugh. “Not even in their vocal abilities.”

The younger Dall couldn’t help grabbing a fistful of the brown hair he’d inherited from his dad–well, before he’d started going gray a couple Years ago, that is–and pulled at it. Said dad was quick to grab his wrist and disentangle his fingers from his hair, clearly not wanting to see him hurt himself, even minorly. But he couldn’t help wanting to rip his hair out, considering the pressure he’d been feeling for a while now as he searched for potential membersta make up a cover band.

After seemingly exhausting every lead in his own area, one of those new band mates–guitarist Jack Grissom–had suggested taking to the Internet. It was certainly a tool his dad _wouldn’t_ have had back in the Rockin’ Eighties when he and his own band mates were putting together their band. Even though he thought it might be a bit of a long shot, Zach was willing to try just about anything at this point, so he’d reluctantly agreed.

However, in the last week or so, he’d pretty much exhausted every suggestion his band mates and other friends’d sent him links for. Taking off for the local bars and clubs–something Bobby hated seeing either of his kids do, considering his own Past–hadn’t yielded any other results, either. If he didn’t come up with someone who could potentially fill Bret’s position in this cover band, there was no way they were gonna go anywhere. That included possibly converting the cover band into an original one, which was something he’d wanted to do for Years before now.

“Hey, don’t give up Hope so soon, son,” the older Dall told him, a Sage tone lacing his voice. “Giving up Hope when Matt decided to go back to Penn didn’t get Poison off the ground. What got us off the ground was forging ahead, even when it didn’t seem likely we’d get anywhere, ’cuz we wound up finding CC.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true enough,” he admitted, a slight smile quirking the corner of his mouth.

“And don’t think we didn’t do the same thing again in later Years when we replaced him both Times in the nineties,” Bobby chuckled.

“Yeah, with _he-who-shall-not-be-named_ and Blues after him,” the younger Dall laughed.

“Hey, I don’t really care if ya actually mention Richie in front of me,” he told him. “I’ve never approved of what he did all those Years ago, but that’s in the Past–it’s better left there, if ya ask me.”

“Couldn’t agree more, myself,” Zach agreed. “I mean, I was still in Pull-Ups when he fucked Rikki over like that, so I don’t even remember it.”

“Well, what Rikki’s never told is that he and Deanna were on-again, off-again for months,” the older Dall revealed. “It was hard for the rest of us, band members who knew him best to keep up with whether they were actually together or not. For someone like Richie who _didn’t_ know him nearly as well, it woulda been damn near impossible a feat to manage.”

“So, ya honestly believe Richie’s claim that she told him they’d split up?” he asked curiously.

“I do, as much as I believe you’ll eventually manage to find someone to fill Bret’s role in your cover band,” Bobby answered, nodding. “Doesn’t mean that I agree with or otherwise condone doing one’s band mates and brothers dirty like that, but we weren’t originally talking about morality here.”

“True enough,” the younger Dall chuckled.

Before he could say anything else, his dad brought his attention back to his laptop by pointing out that he’d just gotten another email as they were talking. Judging by the words in the subject bar, Jack’d just sent him another link to check out in their search for a potential vocalist. He wasn’t too sure he wanted to check it out, but his dad urged him to do it, anywhore on the grounds that he wouldn’t know if it’d pan out or not, if he didn’t.

Even though he was a bit reluctant about it, Zach opened the email and saw a link to a Youtube video was at the very top. His new friend and band mate’d commented on the person featured in the video being so damn good, he honestly wondered if they were just lip-syncing to a Poison tune. What was surprising, though, was that whoever it was appeared to be a woman at first glance, which was certainly a bit on the weird side. Then again, with the way LGBT+ rights were being pushed, even Jack was willing to admit that maybe it was a trans guy who’d already sounded pretty similar to Bret and just dressed in drag here.

With his Curiosity now sparked, he couldn’t resist opening the link in another tab so he could let the webpage load. He was forced to wait a few moments for that–not to mention for the video to actually buffer enough to watch–so he made himself a bit comfier on his couch. Bobby’s attention was also riveted to the laptop on the coffee table in front of them, and he was definitely curious in his own right. Not very many could cover Bret’s vocals, and certainly not well enough to potentially _be_ said blonde in a cover band.

Neither father, nor son was very surprised when they heard the crowd in what was obviously a bar Begin to settle down as someone took the stage. From the looks of it, they were at a karaoke bar and somebody they’d been with had talked them into actually taking the stage. After how many drinksta shore up their Courage couldn’t be said, but there was one thing they were both sure of right off the bat. This was definitely a woman, ’cuz the person’s curves were a lil too real–even from a distance–to be a guy dressed in drag or going through a transition. Zach didn’t have much Hope now, considering how deep his would-be uncle’s leading lines were supposed to be, so he wasn’t expecting what he heard. Opening up their performance, the woman let _When I hear the Music…Lord gon’ let it play_ ring out so that it sounded identical to the blonde.

“Holy shit,” the younger Dall breathed, turning to look at his dad.

“Yeah, I can definitely see why he thinks she mighta just been lip-syncing now,” said dad told him. “That sounds a lil _too_ much like Bret, if ya ask me.”

“No shit, Dad,” Zach managed to chuckle. “I’d honestly swear that really _is_ Uncle Bret.”

“Course, to play devil’s advocate for a minute here–let’s say she’s _actually_ singing, not just lip-syncing,” the older Dall said. “If that’s the case, she’s a helluva set of pipes on her, to be able to pull this off.”

“You’re telling me,” he agreed with a nod.

“Damn, that was actually pretty good,” Bobby admitted once the first half of the video Ended. “But it looks like she’s gonna do another one while she’s up there.”

“It _does,_ doesn’t it?” The younger Dall cocked his head, almost looking like a curious puppy. “Huh, I wonder what she’s gonna do now?”

“Only one way to find out,” he told him. “And that’s to keep watching.”

Nodding his wholehearted agreement, Zach let the video keep playing, both of them surprised to hear an intro riff he was pretty sure none of the Poison members’d heard in decades. The camera that’d caught this particular video zoomed in on the young woman at that point, and they were able to make out her features a lil more clearly. It wasn’t clear enough to actually identify her, but enough to tell that she was definitely a woman and appeared to have eyes as Dark as her hair.

The notes that spilled outta her mouth once her cue’d arrived stunned father and son as they watched the video continue playing. Unless he’d finally lost the remains of his Sanity, Bobby’d swear she was singing Bret’s lead line in something closer to Richie’s backing key. It made it sound like the chick from Vixen was doing a cover of one of their songs back in the Day, but it actually sounded pretty good, unbelievably. And both knew damn good and well that this young woman really _was_ singing, not just lip-syncing, ’cuz the camera’d zoomed in far enough that they could make out the movements of her throat. She couldn’t possibly lip sync so well that she actually looked like she was singing, considering the notes she was hitting for this particular song.

However, the amount of Soul that she was putting into this particular song outdid anything Bret or Richie’d been able to manage in the studio almost three decades ago. It was almost like she was channeling some kinda pain of her own, letting it out through her vocals and when she somewhat started dancing in rhythm to the song. Father and son both winced, but there was one thing that the former wasn’t about to admit to since he’d crossed his legs when he first sat down. Well, he’d have admitted it, if the person in the room’d been anyone _but_ his son, but that was a totally different story altogether.

By the Time she’d let her last note ring out and her head drop down as the virtuoso’s outro lick played, then tilted back as the last few bass notes joined, neither of them could hide their shock. Something told Zach to grab his phone and give his friend a call, that they’d just brought their search to a surprising End. It was gonna truly come to an End if and when they could identify and contact this young woman, though, and he knew it.

_Greensboro, North Carolina_

Stormy McDaniels, better known as Rebel amongst her small social Circle, didn’t even try to hold back the groan she let out as she woke. Despite going out to a nearby bar with her best friend the Night previous, she wasn’t the least bit hungover this Morn. Then again, she never bothered drinking in public, if only to avoid becoming a living portion of a Ron White skit–she always saved that for once she was back home, if she was gonna indulge.

But choosing not to indulge till she got back home didn’t stop her body from screaming bloody murder and wanting to commit mutiny as she got up. After all, being a woman wasn’t nearly as easy as women made it look, and with her joint issues, it was a Wonder she managed to function at all most Days. While a metric fuck-ton of Aleve might help with her joints, she knew damn good and well it’d to be damaging other parts of her body. Advil or Motrin was said to fuck up one’s stomach lining, and it was a known fact that taking too much Tylenol wasn’t any better for one’s liver than a Lifetime of heavy drinking–what was to make her think any other medication wasn’t slowly Destroying some other part of her body?

Pushing that Thought as far into the back of her mind as she could, Stormy went through her typical Morn routine that wouldn’t be complete without coffee. And that was another one of those things that she couldn’t live without, but she knew was slowly killing her, the more she indulged. Then again, she’d accepted a couple Years ago that she was gonna die eventually, no matter what it was from or when it happened. She figured she might as well have some fun along the way, whether it got her into the same kinda trouble Nikki Sixx’d once gotten himself into or not.

“Morn, sis.”

Shuffling into the kitchen like a zombie, she saw her best friend-turned-brother, whom she’d been staying with for the last week. “Morn, asshat.”

“Oh, don’t call me that _yet,”_ Mark laughed.

“Fuck me–at least lemme get coffee before ya tell me whatcha did now,” the young woman groaned.

“Not to mention a ten-foot pole to put between us so ya don’t try to kill me,” he snickered.

“I might just kill ya for eluding to whatever it is that you’ve done,” Stormy grumbled as she set up his Keurig. “Depends on what you’ve done and how bad it is.”

The young man who’d claimed her as a sister as much as she’d claimed him as a brother continued to laugh under his breath, which just made her roll her eyes. Once she’d finally gotten her coffee done and taken the first few sips–not to mention lit her first smoke of the Day–she finally turned her full attention to him. She was too curious _not_ to find out what the hell he was carrying on about, no matter how bad it made her wanna kill him for it later.

As it turned out, he’d posted a video of her karaoke performance from the Night previous on his Youtube account. Her jaw dropped as she took in the evidence of it–which showed her covering Poison’s _Let it Play_ and _Fire and Ice_ with ease–for herself. Mark knew damn good and well she hated when others heard her sing, which was why he’d been forced to promise her a week of foot rubs, despite his hatred of feet, to get her to go up in the first place. In fact, she was starting to think he’d actually been possessed while they were at the bar, if he went behind her back to post something like this.

However, it wasn’t long before something caught her attention and made her scroll further down the page so she could see what it was. Outta the couple thousand views and multiple comments it’d gotten so far, one in particular stood out from the rest and caught her eye. As she read it, she couldn’t help the red that crawled up from her cleavage to her hairline and made her look like she’d a Mater for a face.

“Ya know what? I think I’ma do it,” the young man at her side said. “If only so I can fuck with whoever this idiot is.”

“I really Wish ya _wouldn’t,”_ Stormy groaned, moving so she wasn’t in his webcam’s frame. “And you’re just as big an idiot for even posting this!”

“Your fault, sis,” he snickered. “Ya really think I’ma dole out a week of foot rubs without getting my sweet Revenge, as much as ya _know_ feet gross me out?”

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole, Mark,” the young woman grumbled, grabbing her coffee mug again.

“Damn right, I am,” Mark laughed as he opened up Skype so he could copy/paste the username he’d been given. “And you’d be wiseta remember that.”

“You’ll be wiseta remember what a bitch I can be when ya push the right buttons,” she groused.

All she could hope for was that the author of that comment couldn’t actually be reached, and that if they _could,_ they wouldn’t wanna talk to _her_.


	2. Two

Stormy managed to stay outta the frame as her asshole of a best friend added the Skype user who’d left that comment as a contact. She still wasn’t sure if the person’d be able to be reached at the moment, ’cuz she knew they might be in a different Time zone. Hopefully, she’d Luck out on that and they’d turn out to be at work or in bed for the Night, rather than just getting up for the Day or having already been up for several hours. Either way, she wouldn’t have to take the chances of Mark starting a video call that she could very well wind up dragged into the middle of.

Luck just didn’t seem to be on her side with that one, though, ’cuz his contact request got accepted by the other person almost immediately. In fact, it almost seemed like the other person’d been sitting in front of their computer, just waiting for the moment that such a request came in. That made her groan as she managed to slip upstairs where–once she came down again–she’d be able to see without _being_ seen.

Not long after she’d slipped upstairs, the young woman slowly snuck back down to the perfect vantage point, and she wasn’t surprised to see Mark in the middle of a video call. What she _was_ surprised by was how familiar the person on the other End of the cameras seemed–even though she knew damn good and well she’d never met him. It took her a few moments, but she finally figured out why that face seemed so familiar–and it wasn’t ’cuz she actually knew its owner, but rather ’cuz of how much like his dad he looked.

_“So, that was your best friend in that video?”_ the other young man in the call was asking.

“Yeah, Rebel’s one of my best friends,” Mark answered, nodding as he let out a drag. “She’s more like a sister to me, though, if I’m honest.”

_“I know that feeling, man,”_ he chuckled. _“I’ve a couple guys I call brothers like that.”_

Her best friend Returned the chuckle as he took another drag, which made Stormy want a smoke of her own now.

_“So, where’s she at? I’m curious ’cuz talking to_ her _was half the reason I wanted to get in touch with ya.”_

“Ah, she’s being shy and hiding right now,” he laughed. “Course, you’re lucky you’re not witnessing a murder right now, Zach.”

_“Whyddaya say that?”_ the other young man asked, a curious look on his face.

“She hates when other folks hear her sing, so she didn’t know I posted that video till right before I sentcha that contact request,” Mark answered with a cheeky grin.

_“Ooh, ballsy, man,”_ he laughed. _“Can’t say I’d have taken such a risk.”_

“Hell, she’s prolly more interested in skinning my junk than actually killing me,” her best friend admitted.

_“Still ballsy as all hell, dude,”_ Zach chuckled.

“Considering that I’d rather skin your junk, feed it to ya, and then stuff ya in your guitar caseta slowly suffocate,” she finally said, still careful to stay off-camera.

_“Yikes, man!”_ the other young man laughed. _“But I’m assuming that’s her?”_

“Yeah, that’s Rebel ya just heard,” Mark answered. “And trust me when I say she’s harmless–she’s all bark and no bite.”

Glaring at him, she walloped him upside the back of his head, uncaring about just her hand being visible in the frame.

_“Doesn’t seem like she’s harmlessta me,”_ the other young man retorted with a wince.

Laughing, her best friend said that was actually more so one of her ways of showing affection for him than it wasn’t, which was actually kinda true. She was the type that cared so much, she’d to hide how much so under a _façade_ that made her seem more like a bitch than she really was. Otherwise, she was constantly getting hurt and winding up needing a shoulder to cry on–and while he didn’t mind giving her such a thing, there was a limit on how much he could take.

Stormy still made sure to stay outta the webcam’s frame as she lit up and had a smoke of her own, which made Mark light another one, himself. The other young man didn’t seem quite like he approved of such a habit, but also like he was of the mind that he couldn’t stop them, so he wasn’t gonna waste his Time or breath. In fact, he seemed more of a mind of talking to the woman he couldn’t see than he wasn’t, despite that inability.

_“Well, Rebel_ – _there was a reason I wanted to get in touch with whoever posted that video, and preferably_ you,” he said.

“And what, pray tell, would that reason be?” the young woman asked, still just off-camera.

_“’Cuz I’ve been trying to put together a cover band,”_ Zach admitted. _“But there’s been quite a problem.”_

Stormy kept quiet, although she made sure he could actually see her hand when she gestured for him to continue.

_“We haven’t had any Luck in finding someone to_ front _the band,”_ he explained. _“The only song I can cover worth a shit on vocals is_ Every Rose.”

“Wait, as in Poison’s ’88 hit ballad, _Every Rose Has Its Thorn?”_ Mark interrupted.

_“That’s the one, yeah,”_ he laughed. _“It’s supposed to be a tribute band of my dad’s band, after all.”_

“If that’s the case, I can see why ya wouldn’t want just anyone to front it,” her best friend mused.

_“Yeah, and that’s the biggest problem,”_ Zach said. _“No one we’ve auditioned has come anywhere near closeta sounding like Uncle Bret, let alone close enough to impersonate him in a tribute band.”_

Stormy continued to listen as he explained how, after exhausting pretty much every lead in his area, he’d been talked into taking his search online. It was pretty clear that he’d been as dubious about actually taking his guitarist’s suggestion as she was about talking to him, which oddly made her feel a lil better. Now, it was pretty clear that she wasn’t the only nervous one, which made her finally decide to settle next to her best friend where she could actually be seen.

Zach’s eyes widened when the young woman he’d heard in the background finally appeared on-camera next to Mark. He knew his dad–who was just off-camera, himself and keeping quiet for now–was just as surprised, based on the look he caught outta the corner of his eye. But he continued acting like the veteran bassist _wasn’t_ in the room with him so he wouldn’t startle her into disappearing again just as quickly. The point wasta actually talk to her and maybe even talk her into auditioning for him, even if it was just through a Skype call, not scare her off by coming on too strongly.

Shaking off his surprise and offering her a smile, he mildly complimented her Beauty, laughing as she blushed furiously. He told her that if she looked this good for more or less being fresh outta bed, she’d make a gorgeous faceta front his band with once she cleaned up. But he knew that having a pretty face wasn’t everything in the Music industry–the talent was an even bigger part of it than it wasn’t.

“That being said, I’m still a bit dubious on believing ya were actually singing in that video,” he admitted. “It sounded a lil _too_ much like Uncle Bret to me.”

_“I actually get that a lot,”_ Stormy laughed, her eyes starting to sparkle. _“I’ve been told I’ve a karaoke voice, ’cuz it can be kinda like a Mockingbird sometimes.”_

“What’s that supposed to mean, exactly?” the younger Dall asked, even Bobby looking curious off-camera.

_“That I can sound almost identical to a lotta artists when I’m singing along with ’em,”_ she explained. _“Like, I can shoot up ungodly high and hit the same notes as the chick from Evanescence, or I can drop down and do a pretty good rendition of a couple Puddle of Mudd songs.”_

“Wait, really?” Zach’s eyes widened again as much as his dad’s did.

_“Forgotten Thoughts of yesterdays_ – _through my eyes, I see the Past. Well, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know why…”_ she sang, actually hitting the notes from the studio version of the song.

“Damn, she’s actually doing it,” Bobby whispered just loud enough for him to hear, but not be picked up by his laptop’s mic.

_“I believe, I believe, I believe in the Truth, from inside… Go away, go away, go away from me_ – _leave me alone…”_ Stormy continued, her eyes slipping shut as she got into her zone. _“Ignorance spreads lies… How much will money buy…? Well, I’ll take my Time as I drift and die…”_

Hearing her hold out that ungodly long Ending note, despite its depth, was actually pretty impressive since it showed just how good her lung capacity was for a smoker. Zach resisted looking over at his dad, who seemed equally surprised and impressed, but also like he was wanting to hear more. She definitely had a way with her vocals that not many could say they did, but he couldn’t quite peg what about it was so mesmerizing.

“Okay, that was a helluva lot better than I was expecting, being in a video call be damned,” the younger Dall laughed once he’d gathered his wits.

_“Ya oughta hear us do one of our Toby Keith favorites together,”_ her friend chuckled.

“Toby Keith?” He couldn’t help his surprise. “Ya didn’t strike me as one who liked that particular genre.”

_“Boy, we were both born and raised in North Carolina_ – _how can we_ not _like at least a lil bit of country?”_ Stormy laughed, only to interrupt herself with a coughing fit.

“Shit, are ya all right?” Zach asked, a worried note to his own voice.

_“Ah, I’m fine,”_ she assured him after a few seconds. _“Part and parcel of being a smoker, unfortunately.”_

“I know _that_ feeling,” the older Dall mumbled, quietly clapping a hand over his mouth when he realized the mic’d caught him that Time.”

_“Have we lost our minds, or is your house haunted, man?”_ Mark asked, his brow furrowing.

“Damn it, Dad–ya better not scare her off now!” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. “No, my house isn’t haunted–unless it’s haunted by my very much alive father.”

Bobby flipped him off from where he stood in the corner, which made him Return the gesture, even as he noted the young woman’s surprise. She almost looked like her brain’d totally been reset, and he started to wonder if that’d cause problems with her auditioning for him. It was pretty obvious she was a Poison fan–he doubted she’d do karaoke versions of their songs, if she wasn’t–so he couldn’t help wondering about letting her know who his dad was.

Mark chuckled as he reached over to turn her head so she was looking at him, then surprised both father and son after a quick question. They couldn’t make out what he’d asked her, so they were shocked when he actually slapped her across the cheek, despite knowing at least one set of eyes could see. In fact, the older Dall was so shocked, he actually moved to where the camera could see him as he started to ream him out.

Stormy simply held up a hand as she shook off the blow, which was apparently light enough that it barely pinkened her cheek. Laughing as she turned her attention back to the video call, she said that she’d told him to slap her, ’cuz her inner fan-girl needed a quick reset, as it were. Either she’d have sat there looking more dumbfounded than not, completely unable to speak, or she’d have made an idiot of herself when she started squealing like an excited child. The older man might be one of her favorite rockers, but that didn’t mean he needed to be treated any less than human, especially since this wasn’t a meet-and-greet or anything of the sort.

_“Mark knows me well enough to know that if I don’t ask for it, I’ma knock him outta that chair when I hit him back,”_ the young woman laughed.

_“Ya sure you’re not a guy?”_ said young man chuckled. _“’Cuz I swear, for being so tiny, ya hit like one.”_

Giving him a bit of a dirty look, she socked him in his upper arm so hard, father and son actually heard the blow connect.

“Ouch, girl!” Zach laughed. “I heard that through my speakers!”

“Yeah, that _sounded_ like it hurt,” his dad chuckled. “Kinda makes me wanna rub my own arm now, and I’m not even the one ya punched.”

_“Toldja she hits like a guy when she wantsta,”_ Mark said, grinning even as he actually rubbed his arm. _“I’ma have a good ol’ bruise later, but I kinda deserve it.”_

“For posting that video we watched behind her back?” Bobby chuckled.

_“Wait, even_ you _saw that?”_ Stormy asked, her face turning red again.

“Yeah, and I gotta say, it was pretty damn good,” he answered, tucking his gray hair behind his ears as he nodded. “Sounded identical to Bret in _Let it Play,_ and kinda like the leading lady of Vixen doing a cover of _Fire and Ice.”_

_“Never got that kinda comparison before, but I’ll take your word for it,”_ the young woman told him. _“I grew up on a lotta hair metal ’cuz of my mom, but I don’t recall ever hearing any Vixen. If I did, I just didn’t realize who I was listening to.”_

“Happens a lot more often than you’d think,” he told her. “So, your mom was into hair metal, as they call it now?”

_“She graduated high school in ’89, if that says anything,”_ Stormy laughed. _“And she’s had a crush on Bret ever since_ Look What the Cat Dragged In _came out.”_

Even Zach couldn’t help a laugh at that, but neither were expecting what was about to come outta her mouth next.

_“Course, she can have Bret_ – _and even CC, for that matter_ – _all she wants,”_ she said. _“You and Rikki’re more my speed.”_

_“She’s a thing for bassists more than anything,”_ Mark chuckled as he noted their surprised looks. _“So, it’s kinda surprising that she’s such a vocalist.”_

_“Shut up, asshat!”_ the young woman said. _“I can still kick your ass on bass when it comesta_ Every Rose!”

The younger Dall’s eyes veritably lit up when he heard her say that, ’cuz it gave him the perfect opportunity to get their conversation back on track. He admitted that while his dad had made sure he could play just about every Poison bass riff ever written, _Every Rose_ was the only one he just couldn’t seem to catch on to. He could play CC’s lead riff–and even Bret’s rhythm riff–like it was nothing, and vocals weren’t a problem for him, either. But that bass riff drove him nuts almost to the point of wanting to smash his bass every Time he tried, so he’d eventually given up on it.

Grinning somewhat mischievously, Stormy got up and left the frame for a few moments, and it didn’t take long for them to catch the Sound of an amp kicking on. When she leaned against the wall behind Mark so they could actually see, there was a black four-string bass that appeared to have a bit of a red undertone hanging from her shoulder.

From the looks of things, she was right-handed–and if she was actually left-handed, then she’d just learned how to play right-handed. She popped a pair of ear buds into her ears and tapped the screen of her phone a few Times before putting it in her back pocket, then got her hands into a specific position. After a few moments, even Bobby could hear the first few notes of the riff in question, and he was a bit surprised that she managed to play them flawlessly. Her fingers appeared so short on the fret board that he’d thought there was no way she could actually play this riff, but maybe he was wrong. Still, he listened alongside his son, watching as she slid down to hit the fifth fret with her ring finger every Time that particular note was needed.

There was only one thing she needed to work on that he’d caught by the Time she let that last note ring out, and it really wasn’t anything major. In fact, he often didn’t play it quite right when Poison was doing this song live, and it didn’t seem the crowds could ever tell. What’d caught his ear was that during that last verse, there was technically a slide that he’d done from the fifth fret back up to the third so the notes kinda slurred together the way they woulda on a Wind instrument that she _hadn’t_ done.

“That was actually damn near spot-on,” he told her once she’d come back to the call.

_“Oh, I’m sure I messed up in a few places,”_ the young woman laughed. _“I’m certainly not you, or Nikki Sixx for that matter.”_

“Just the slide in the last verse from what I could tell,” Bobby admitted. “You’re supposed to keep pressure on the string as ya slide from the fifth fret back up to the third.”

_“So, it’s supposed to sound kinda like a slur on flute?”_ she asked, sounding like she got it.

“I guess, ’cuz I’ve never really heard a flute,” the older Dall admitted.

Stormy surprised them again when she grabbed a small case and opened it, then started putting together a flute right before their eyes.

“Damn, you’re just full of surprises,” the younger Dall chuckled.

_“Gotta keep folks on their toes,”_ she snickered before raising the instrument to her face. After taking a deep breath, she played three notes that–while a lot higher than they’d have been on bass–sounded almost identical and slurred together.

“All right, _that_ sounded more like the rhythm ya shoulda played on bass,” Bobby told her.

_“That’s what we call a_ slur _on a Wind instrument,”_ the young woman explained. _“Tonguing separates the notes so ya can hear each one individually like this.”_ Raising her flute again, she played the same three notes, but there was a split second of Space between each one.

“Yeah, that second way isn’t quite how they’re supposed to be played in _Every Rose,”_ he chuckled. “They’re supposed to be slurred, if that’s the difference.”

_“Just gives me something to work on later,”_ Stormy said with a cheeky grin as she took her flute apart.

Even as she shoved a rod with some kinda rag attached into each piece before putting it back in its case, she glanced up every few seconds as Zach told her that even if she couldn’t front his cover band, he needed someone to play that particular riff, too. Like he’d said before, he couldn’t play it for shit and usually didn’t feel like breaking his bass–not that he wanted his dad to break his ass for making his waste his money on it, either. But even if they switched places for vocals and bass in that particular song, it could work out well enough for both of them.

The young woman said she’d have to think about whether to formally audition for him or not, but there was one major problem. Whether she wanted to or not, she didn’t have a way to get to wherever he was, and she didn’t sound the same in person as she did over the phone or the like. As it stood, he’d more than likely have to come to her, but she wasn’t gonna actually make such a demand of a guy she didn’t even know.

Bobby was quick to come up with a solution, and it wasn’t just to benefit his son’s efforts since he’d a bit of an ulterior motive. He said that he was willing to pay for her to come to them, if she really wanted to, no hidden conditions or questions asked. In fact, he was willing to pay for her Return trip home, if things didn’t work out like his son was so obviously hoping for. All she’d to do was let him know, and he’d make whatever arrangements were necessary–even up to the point of driving up to North Carolina and getting her, himself.


	3. Three

After Ending that video call, Zach turned a surprised look on his dad, still barely able to believe what he’d just heard. While there might be some ways he _didn’t_ know him very well–and didn’t _wanna_ know him, if he were honest–he knew him pretty well overall. The older Dall was usually such a tight-purse that he didn’t spend his money frivolously, so that offer’d surprised even him. He knew damn good and well he’d some kinda ulterior motive behind making it–he just wasn’t sure what it could possibly be.

Returning that surprised look with a grin, Bobby admitted that he most certainly _did_ have an ulterior motive–he just doubted he’d really wanna know what it was. Whether he knew her by a nickname or her _actual_ name, that young woman was hotter than a cherry on a cigarette, as far as he was concerned. But he knew that just ’cuz someone was hot didn’t necessary mean anything, and he actually wanted to get to know her, too.

“Yeah, I know–I’m acting like I’m your age again by thinking with my dick here,” he chuckled when his son made an obvious _Yuck!_ face. “But at least I’m not totally acting like she’s just a piece of meat.”

“Ya better fuckin’ not,” Zach grumbled. “’Cuz I swear to God, if I can actually snag her as our leading lady andja run her off by being a Neanderthal, I’ll skin _your_ junk!”

“Better watch which body parts ya threaten, son,” the older Dall snickered. “’Cuz ya might not do much to hurt me aside from the obvious physical injuries, if skinning my junk winds up not really affecting me.”

“Ugh–Dad, just shut up!” he laughed. “I never wanted or needed to know if _either_ of my parents were still sexually active or not!”

“Ya _don’t_ know if I am or not,” Bobby chuckled. “Can’t say about your mom, and even I don’t wanna know.”

“Dad, enough,” the younger Dall insisted. “Get outta my room before I’ve to hurtcha.”

Still laughing, he ruffled his son’s hair and kissed the top of his head before he did as requested and left his bedroom. Even though he was grown and still lived under his roof, the veteran bassist still tried to respect Zach’s privacy and need for his own Space. He made his own bedroom off-limits during certain Times, particularly at Night, so he wasn’t surprised by the younger man being the same way.

Back downstairs in his kitchen as he got to work on lunch, the older Dall couldn’t help crossing his fingers when he didn’t necessarily need them spread. Part of him certainly hoped that young Rebel’d get back in touch with his son and agree to come down to Florida by any means necessary. There was another part of him that knew such a thing might not happen, even if it earned her the chanceta meet one of her favorite rockers in person. Only Time’d tell whether she’d agree to his offer or not, but it didn’t hurt to hold out Hope while still being Realistic in the meantime.

Only a couple Days later, Rebel’d gotten in touch with the young man about agreeing to coming down to Florida, if his dad was serious about funding the entire round trip. Her only condition was that she get to bring Mark along with her, ’cuz she wasn’t coming down to his turf and winding up surrounded by guys who might mean her harm without someone she already knew and trusted. To her, safety was the utmost importance, and while she doubted he and his dad meant her the slightest harm, she couldn’t say the same about the rest of his band mates.

Bobby seemed a bit perturbed by that when he told him, but he was still pretty quick to agree–even if it meant spending more money than he’d originally planned. Neither of them realized that it wasn’t just for her personal safety, but ’cuz she knew she wouldn’t actually get on a plane due to a serious Fear of heights. She didn’t want the veteran bassist to wind up wasting his money when she chickened out at the last second, but her best friend _had_ flown before, so he could help keep her Calm.

When their flight landed at MIA in Miami, Zach was waiting to pick the pair up, his dad having stayed home to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to them. He could go out in public without necessarily getting mobbed, but there was no need to take any chances with such a thing today. The trip down here was no doubt already stressful enough for her, and there wasn’t any need to potentially stress her out even more. Besides, that gave him a chanceta have lunch ready by the Time the trio go to the house, considering he was actually a damn good chef. Course, that was as long as everything actually worked out, and the pair got off the flight they were supposed to be on that afternoon.

“Hey, there.” The younger Dall shot them a smile once he spotted them. “Glad to see you’re both in a single piece each.”

“Tell that to my hand, man,” Mark chuckled, even as he moved to offer his right hand. “Mark Dillon.”

“Zach Dall,” he answered, accepting the handshake. “Well, that’s not actually my surname, but it’s more of a mouthful.”

“Kuykendall,” the young woman said, smirking. “He’s just not quite the linguist I am.”

“Dall works, too,” he told him.

“Rebel, right?” her potential band mate asked, reading her body language as he turned to her.

“Rebel’s just a nickname,” she responded. “I’ll tell ya my _actual_ name at your house, ’cuz I’m paranoid about who knows it.”

“One of her exes did her dirty a few Years back,” Mark explained as they started heading outta the airport. “Put pretty much everything but her driver’s license and social security numbers on public display on a fake Facebook account he made to impersonate her after they broke up.”

“Only reason he didn’t do that with those two numbers is ’cuz I didn’t have my license at the Time, and I wasn’t stupid enough to give him anything like my social,” Rebel elaborated. “Otherwise, I’ve no doubt that he woulda put _those_ on public display, too.”

“Yikes,” he winced, pulling his keys outta his pocket to unlock his car. “I don’t blame ya for being paranoid in a case like that–or its aftermath, for that matter.”

“Yeah, it’s nothing personal,” the young woman chuckled.

The trio got their bags loaded into his trunk, then Rebel moved to crawl into the back seat since she was the smallest of them. He hadn’t been quite sure about their sizes when he’d decided to drive his beloved ’96 Mustang, or he’d have taken his dad’s Tahoe. If he’d known Mark was closer to his own height–and easily well over a hundred pounds heavier–he’d have definitely made sure to drive something bigger to give both a lil more room for Comfort.

On the way back to the Dalls’ house, they got to know each other a lil better, now that they didn’t have webcams separating them. He’d already known they were both smokers, which was confirmed when they’d decided to light up before ever getting into his car. But he didn’t know things like what’d made them both start smoking, or if it was kinda like hereditary medical history ’cuz generations before them’d been smokers.

Rebel laughed as she explained from his back seat that a lotta her family before her’d been smokers, most notably her pappaw–who’d died not quite two Years ago–and her mother. She’d Intended to avoid going down this road herself, but that same ex who’d done her dirty’d ultimately gotten her started without meaning to. To her, it was only a matter of Time before she gave in to the temptation surrounding her, ’cuz she was pretty sure she’d an addictive personality. But considering that her family was also full of alcoholics and drug addicts, and the worst she did was smoke cigarettes, she considered herself to be doing pretty good.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong–I’ve been known to get rip-roaring drunk sometimes,” the young woman admitted. “But even Mark’ll tell ya that I’ve a sense of Responsibility like none other when I do.”

“I’ve never seen someone keep the presence of mind to cut _themselves_ off once they reach a certain point like she does,” Mark told him when he shot him a curious look upon getting caught at a stoplight.

“Wow, seriously?” he asked, turning his attention back to the road.

“Seriously, man.” The young man riding shotgun nodded. “Her limit’s three or four shots, and if ya even _try_ to get her to go beyond that, she’ll stumble off and hide in another room since she won’t drink in public.”

“Damn, that’s pretty impressive,” Zach chuckled as he took off behind the car in front of him.

“The other impressive part’s that I’ve the memory of an Elephant, even when I’m that drunk,” Rebel snickered.

“My wife told me what happened one Night after a single glass of wine knocked me out,” her best friend said. “It was pretty amusing, ’cuz Rebel never acts like that when she’s sober. Later that afternoon, Rebel told me the exact same thing herself with only minor discrepancies between the two stories.”

“Like, if she’d said something like _we_ instead of _me_ or something?” the younger Dall asked.

“Exactly.” She nodded where he could see her from the rearview mirror when he glanced up. “Other than stupid shit like that, I remembered everything that happened and in what order without his wife having to tell me.”

“No doubt _Dad_ Wishes he’d that kinda memory after a few crazy Nights back in the Day,” Zach chuckled. “Or then again, maybe he _doesn’t.”_

The other pair couldn’t help laughing as he finally turned into his subdivision, knowing that the older Dall’d no doubt gotten into some crazy shit in his Youth. While there was no doubt a lotta shit he Wished he remembered from back then, there was a lot he was prolly glad he didn’t. And even then, there were prolly still even more moments that he remembered, but Wished he _could_ forget, ’cuz they were humiliating or something along those lines.

Pulling into his drive way, the younger Dall said that his dad prolly wouldn’t hear them come in, if he did as was normal for him. Anytime he was cooking, cleaning, or anything else domestic, he’d usually have the stereo in the living room cranked up almost to full blast. He’d never admit to it, but his hearing wasn’t what it used to be after decades of live shows, so he’d to have it up that loud to even remotely hear it.

Nodding, Rebel waited till he’d climbed out to crawl out behind him since she needed his seat folded up before she could. She was no stranger to loud Music, ’cuz unless she was trying to sleep or had a migraine, she was the epitome of the KISS song _I Love it Loud_. As if that wasn’t enough, her best friend was actually deaf in one ear, so he usually kept shit turned up pretty loud since he couldn’t hear as well with only one functioning ear. Having it turned up loud ’cuz of an old man who’d two ears that didn’t quite fire on all cylinders, so to speak, wasn’t a problem for either of them.

“Yo, Dad!” he bellowed, opening the connecting door between the garage and back hall to find he’d been right. “Turn it down a bit so we don’t need a bull-horn!”

“All right, all right!” Bobby laughed from the kitchen. Moments later, the volume of whatever he’d been listening to lowered significantly, and the man in question appeared. “Just put your bags in the living room for now. We’ll take them upstairs when I go to make up the bed since I was washing the spare bedding earlier.”

“Works for us,” Mark told him, turning to offer his hand once he’d done as told. “Mark Dillon.”

“Bobby Dall, as I’m sure ya know,” he responded as he grabbed his hand. “Although I’d honestly rather be called Rob outside my band.”

“Just to differentiate or something?” Rebel asked curiously.

“Yeah, something like that,” the older Dall answered. “Never really liked anyone but Mom calling me Bobby as a kid, but the idiots I wound up in a band with just wouldn’t quit and it stuck.”

“Well, as has been said before, I tend to go by Rebel a lot,” she chuckled. “The name’s actually Stormy, though.”

“Fitting, if you’re half as much a Storm as ya seem already,” Zach laughed.

“Ya don’t even know the half of it yet,” her best friend told him. “There’s a reason I say _Hurricane Stormy’s_ blowing in when she’s coming to my neck of the Woods.”

Everybody burst into laughter at that as Bobby led them into the kitchen, saying that he hoped homemade Chicken alfredo was fine by them. The young woman kinda turned her nose up at being told there was Chicken in it, but she said it was fine–she wasn’t much of a carnivore aside from beef, but she could pick it out. He couldn’t help a soft sigh of relief at knowing that–even if she _was_ a bit of a picky eater–she could still make do with what was being served for the most part.

Since they’d already had a long Day, they all agreed on her not meeting the rest of her potential band, let alone auditioning till the following Day. At least she and Mark’d have a bit to recover from their flight further South than at least she’d ever gone before the excitement _really_ kicked up. Each of them seemed agreeable to that, and like they even preferred getting to know their hosts better.

But while father and son might not realize it, Stormy’s best friend could tell she was fighting her attraction to the older man. Judging by the looks she kept giving him when his back was turned or he otherwise wasn’t paying attention, she already wanted to jump his bones–or more aptly, his boner. She wasn’t the type to do such a thing, though, ’cuz she knew how quick she could form an Emotional connection with those she slept with. No doubt she didn’t want such a thing happening with a man who just wanted a good lay, and she’d be fighting that attraction the whole Time they were here.


End file.
